I Really Like Casey Acosta
by CaseyIsMyValentine
Summary: A story I wrote for December 31st aka th "Cammiversary" since that's the day they met. Sammy hates Casey. Or so she says.


**Note: **I am in a very huge Cammy mood this week. But I wrote this story a while ago, so. They were written on my blog but I'm kinda taking a break from my blog, so I'm trying to go through all the Sammy Keyes stories on FF that I _haven't _gotten a chance to read while I find the "inner peace" in me. Aka, I'm trying to keep more to myself. But STORIES are the one thing I can't leave. Because seriously, it's writing. I mean, seriously, who DOESN'T love books and stories? It's TV in your head. :)

_**I Really Like Casey Acosta - A Very Cammiful Late Cammiversary Story**_  
>Incoming text message.<p>

**Casey: **wanna come over and help me rehearse my lines?

**Me: **what? no party to go to? tsk tsk

**Casey: **i'm a lead, sammy, i need to use all the downtime i have to practice

**Me: **so why are you asking me to help you with lines?

**Casey: **cuz i know you're sitting at home like a dud too ;)

He wins.

I put my scratched up cell phone into my jean shorts back pocket and get up. It's 8 pm, New Years Eve, and I'm not at any parties.

After Casey and I broke up exactly 5 months and 2 weeks ago due to parental issues (his dad loves my mom, vice versa, etc) and decided to stay "good friends…JUST friends" we've both kinda lost interest in being too social.

Don't get me wrong, we still hang out with each other and friends, but no hand holding, no kissing or flirting and especially, ESPECIALLY no mentioning anything about our past relationship.

So far it's been working out okay, you can say. We've become really good friends. In a way, it's kind of relieving to know that we can maintain a good relationship together even when we're not going out romantically, you know?

It shows that he really truly cares about me and my personality, that he's not some guy who just likes a girl for looks and other reasons.

I grabbed my house keys (long story short, at the end of 8th grade, my mom revealed to me my Mysterious

Father and now I'm living with him. The whole matter is over now so I'm not even gonna bother summarizing- just know this: he's RARELY ever home) and my skateboard and left.

When I arrived at Casey's house, which wasn't too far away, just 9 minutes and 34 seconds (it's been timed and tested and averaged many times, don't ask) I saw him sitting out on the front lawn.

"It's dark," I called, "Get inside the house, you freak-a-deek!"

"Freak-a-deek?" He calls back. "That's a new low for even you, Sammy."

I sit on the itchy grass beside him. "Yo."

"Yo."

"Yo ready to practice, Romeo?"

He rolls his big brown eyes. "Don't be ridiculous! I'm not Romeo, I'm the Phantom."

"Of the Opera, that Phantom?"

"Yup. Of the Opera. That Phantom."

"Wait, I thought you were Raoul."

"Oh, he's too good-guy for me. I like being the Phantom. Anyway, they changed the musical around a bit to make it shorter."

"Did they?" I ask, picking at the grass. Sometimes his babbling about musicals and plays get me a little glazy-eyed. Meaning, bored. Restless.

He looks at me like he can see I don't really care. "Yeah. They made it a _musical, _not just an opera, so there is actual dialogue in it. And songs, of course. So the script is a bit different than the original movie script." he hands me a copy he had laying beside him. "I have all _my _lines memorized; I just need someone to read Christine's lines for me."

I look down. "This is the script? Am I supposed to say Christine's lines?"

"Exactly."

"Okay."

"Start from 'You have brought me'."

"You have brought me, to that moment when words run dry, to that moment when speech disappears into silence."

Casey gets all in-character suddenly, seeming like a completely different person entirely.

"You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge…of that wish which till now has been silent."

"I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why."

His face seems suddenly angry.

"Past the point of no return! no backward glances. Are games of make-believe have come to an end!"

I looked down. This was the part when the Phantom started babbling or singing or something on and on and on.

Well, kind of. This Phantom guy seems like a pretty pissed off person to me. I wouldn't wanna meet him.

"Take off my mask." Casey whispers.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"The script says to take off my mask." he whispers as if he's really on a stage trying to get me to do the right movement.

I look down.

**Christine lifts off Phantom's mask when he is looking in the mirror.**

Casey makes like he's looking into a mirror.

"You don't have a mask on!" I whisper.

Suddenly slow fireworks start up. It makes me jump a little but I'm reminded that it is New Years Eve, after all.

"Pretend like I have on one! Take off the hypothetical mask!"

I slowly reach forward and make like I'm taking off his "mask". Except my fingers end up kind of brushing against his jaw and the touch sends an electric jolt through my crazy spazzed-up arm, so I quickly jerk my arm back like

I've just been electrocuted.

Casey looks at me like I have mental problems.

Blame him? I do not.

"Sorry," I say, meekly. "A stupid mosquito landed on my hand."

He shrugs. "Do it again, just let me say the last line I said before. _Past the point of no return. No backward glances. _

_Our game of make-believe has come to an end."_

He looks forward like he is staring at his reflection-his face is hard, his jaw tight, like he seriously hates what he sees in the mirror. I wonder if that's how the Phantom really acts in the movie. Probably, I mean, he _does _wear a mask to cover his half-deformed face, right? He must really hate himself.

I reach forward and pretend like I'm taking off an invisible mask. My stupid fingers end up accidentally brushing his face again. I think that soft tickle was his eyelashes.

When I pull my hand away he looks at me and suddenly I feel sick. Why is he looking at me like he wants to rip my throat out?

"Those of you who have seen my face my face draw back in fear! I am the mask you wear!"

I realize he's only being in-character, he's not really mad at ME, me.

Then he begins singing.

I sit there while he sings because I guess Christine doesn't sing jack in this scene. Oh well, it works for me. Not much of a singer, here, anyway.

After his singing seems to be coming to an end, he motions for me to look down and read the script.

I'm supposed to sing one line.

"_Sing my angel, he's there. The Phantom of the Opera seems to be…inside my mind."_

I know the tune because he's been singing it himself.

He motions again.

I look down.

**Christine kisses the Phantom.**

I look up.

I see his brown eyes.

His big, brown, warm eyes.

I see his face. His long eyelashes that had brushed against my hand. His jaw that had electrocuted me, practically.

His smile that was so sweet and perfect. And that dimple on the left side of his smile?

His smile sort of fades away when he realizes my hesitance to do the actual last part of the scene.

I look down at the script again, and he slowly takes it out of my hand as if to say, _Stop. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do._

But the thing was, I really want to.

I don't know if he planned this, or if it _just _occurred to him that _Crap, she has to kiss me! Why did I forget that_? Either way, I want to kiss him. So badly. I want to remember again how it feels to kiss Casey Acosta.

I lean in, slowly, slowly and he tilts his head.

The kiss is only about 5 seconds longer, but it's 5 seconds too short. I want more, and when I pull back and he caches my eyes with his, he can see that I want more.

And…is it… Could he want more, too?

No, probably just the light of the fireworks.

Thank god no one in the neighborhood is really home to be witnessing all this.

He finally says, "How was that? Was it good? I think we did it pretty well, even with the few botched parts."

I blush furiously. So the whole thing was just an act for him. Even the kiss. Even when he had looked me in the eyes in that intimate way, that way that had felt so _real _and so right.

I HATE CASEY ACOSTA. For texting me, making me come here and help him, for leading me on and using his acting skills to mix up and confuse me from what's real and what's just an act.

I HATE CASEY ACOSTA.

I am suddenly so fired up with anger that I snap, "Yeah, we did _wonderful._" I gather up my stuff (aka just my skateboard) and stove up. "Good luck on the play. _Bye._"

"What?" he stands up, also. "What are you talking about?" he seems so sincere, like he mean it, but how am I to know he's not acting again? Like he always is. Casey Acosta is a big, fat…ACTOR!

"I just said good luck, Jesus!" he grabs my arm and I pull away quickly.

He turns me so suddenly that I drop my skateboard.

Putting his hands on my shoulders, he says, locking eyes with me, "What's up with the sudden change in mood, huh?" but he doesn't seem angry. Just confused and…hurt.

"We're just friends." I choke out, "Let go of me."

"Just friends? What does this have to do with us just being friends? We established that six months ago!"

"FIVE MONTHS AND TWO WEEKS!" I scream, correcting him.

Suddenly he takes a step back. "Wait, you remember exactly how long ago we broke up?"

"So?"

He grins.

"Stop!" I say angrily. I hate Casey Acosta! I hate him! He's a player and a jerk and a liar and he has this "nice guy" facade on the outside but inside he's just another typical cocky actor!

"You remembered the exact amount of time it's been." he says slowly. His hands are on my shoulder again. His big, warm hands.

"So?" this time I'm not screaming like a freak.

His smile is cocky, all right. "That means you miss me."

"I do not."

"You do too."

"No, I don't!"

"Then why did you kiss me like that?"

"Like what?" I demand, furiously. I hate Casey Acosta!

He leans closer to me. "I'm an actor, Sammy. And you're not, you said it yourself, you stink at acting."

"Gee, thanks." I grumble.

"So, as an actor, I can tell when non-actors are attempting to act, and when they're being _real._"

"Your point is…?" I swear, my stupid voice just cracked. He's on to me. That boy. I hate him.

"When you kissed me for the script, you were being real."

"Was not."

"Were too."

"I was not!"

He smirks. "Alright, let's say you _weren't. _Then how can you explain the look you gave me afterward? It was a totally believable look displaying…"

"Displaying what? Hatred? Because that's how I feel about your right now. Hate."

"_Lust._"

"Oh, ew!" I swat at him but I'm laughing because he's being so seriously ridiculous it's so cute.

I hate this guy.

He grins. "You looked at me with a very real look of lust, I saw it myself. I was even doing that face, too."

"But _you _were acting!" I snap.

"See!" his arm flies up in the air with a fist-pump. "You just admitted that yours was real! OH YEAH. OH YEAH. ONE FOR ACOSTA, ZERO FOR KEYES!"

Before I can protest, stomp on his foot, kick his shin, and stomp away with my skateboard, he's wrapped up around me and kissing me.

This is a real kiss, I know it, because there's no way in hell that a kiss like this would ever be used in a high school production. This was a real-deal kiss. Between two people who really liked each other.

Well, I can only speak for myself.

I really like Casey Acosta.


End file.
